


My Only Love

by Dancingsalome



Series: Fabien and Sophie [5]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bondage, Choking, F/M, Knifeplay, Rough Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-02 21:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingsalome/pseuds/Dancingsalome
Summary: Estranged from Fabien, Sophie returns to Versailles, continuing her work as his spy. When Fabien decides to play a long game with Sophie as pawn, the hopes of them finding each other again, gets dangerously close to be permanently shattered. A sequel toFalling.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More tags may be added.

_My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy._ /William Shakespeare

 

Sophie returned to Versailles heartbroken, and at first felt almost overwhelmed by the size and splendour of the palace. But within days she had started to re-build friendships, ordering a new gown, and learned what fashions in hair and clothes were the current rage. She looked for Mariette, and lured her back into her service with the promise of a better wage, and set her maid to make her wardrobe fashionable again. Somewhat to her surprise she slid back into her former life with ease and found she still loved it. To her relief her long absence had not given rise to any harmful gossip. One thing Fabien had taught her was to keep lies as close to the truth as possible. When she had lived with Madame Marchal, she had maintained she had a position at Versailles, albeit not as elevated as it truly was, which was why she needed to leave her child under the care of others. And to her friends at court she had left because her mother had fallen gravely ill. Now she returned with a story of Beatrice’s death, and it felt like a relief for Sophie to not have to pretend she was still alive anymore. She also made up a cousin who had had a baby, which made it possible to talk about Henriette as a young relative, on occasion. To a small extent it helped when the longing for her daughter grew too big.

It was an oddly dual existence; Sophie enjoyed her life at Versailles at the same time she wished she could live with Henriette and Madame Marchal. It was a strange feeling to enjoy a ball, but then return to her room and be overwhelmed with the desire to be with her daughter. At least she was not alone in this situation. No one raised children at Versailles, the air around the palace deemed far too dangerous for immature lungs. Though she could not talk openly about Henriette, Sophie often listened to the married woman at court when they talked about their children. She frequently wrote to Madame Marchal, pouring out all her longing in them, and Madame Marchal wrote back with reports of Henriette’s progress. The letter were always sent and received through Fabien and she knew he must read them, but he never mentioned the content. It hurt Sophie he seemed to have no interest in Henriette, but she said nothing. He had made sure their child was safe and cared for, and Sophie could not demand more.

Along with her daily life at court, her secret life as a spy continued. Sophie was determined to do the tasks Fabien gave her as well as possible, giving him no cause to complain. She knew he would not forbid her to visiting Henriette out of spite, but he could do it if he felt she didn’t did do her best. Their relationship did not improve on her return. He spoke little to her, only the words needed when she reported to him. There were no more book to read, and no more interesting discussion. He had closed her out, and Sophie was too proud to try to make amends. She still missed what they had had, and she missed him in her bed. Sometimes she wondered if he missed her too, or if he had found someone else. To her annoyance she felt jealousy at the thought, but she could see no signs of another woman. Fabien had returned to his solitary existence, and Sophie tried to convince herself it was better for her like this. But at night, when her body ached for his company, her reasons for thinking so, abandoned her.

When she had been back for a few weeks, Fabien asked her if she knew who Nicolas de Varade was.

Sophie mind's eye conjured up a tall lean man around thirty-five, neither handsome nor ugly. Not a man she had viewed with any interest.

“Yes, he is one of Monsieur Colbert’s secretaries. I don’t know him; he came here when I was away.”

“Indeed. He is a hard-working man who doesn’t gamble, doesn’t drink, or chase women.”

“Sounds like you,” Sophie couldn’t help saying, but Fabien didn’t raise to the bait.

He is also a pious man, and is generally praised for his loyalty. I want you to become on intimate terms with him.”

Sophie felt a sour taste in her mouth, and a knot of unease formed in her stomach. The implication of using her body to gain information had always been there, but until now Fabien had never asked her to to do so.

“You want me to seduce him?”

“No”, Fabien said quickly. “I want him to fall in love with you. I want you to make him think you are perfect, beyond reproach in all things. Even if he asks for your favours, you are to withhold them.”

It was suddenly easier to breathe again.

“What is it you want me to find out?”

“Nothing. He might decide to confide in you, but if it happens, you will not try to press him to divulge more. Listen and tell me what he says, that is all. Information is not the reason to why I want you to be close to him.”

“Then what is the reason?”

“The less you know about it, the better.”

Sophie frowned. She didn’t quite like the sound of this, but hopefully Fabien would tell her more eventually.

“I’m not sure I can make someone fall in love with me. Especially not such a dour person as Monsieur de Varade.”

“Of course you can.” 

For the first time this evening Fabien looked straight at her. Sophie could feel a blush rise on her cheeks even before he continued; she had almost forgotten how intense his gaze could be. A heat spread through her body, and for a moment she could see desire in Fabien’s eyes, before he looked away.

“You are the most desirable woman in Versailles, after all.”


	2. Chapter 2

At first Sophie was at loss on how to get to know Monsieur de Varade. He did not frequent the salons and dances she enjoyed, and it would be suspicious if she suddenly changed her life. Even if she had been away, those who knew her would notice and remark upon it. As best as she could she studied him and his habits and found he went to the chapel every morning. There was her opening as Sophie had the same daily habit. She prayed for her mother’s soul, and now also for the well-being of Henriette and Madame Marchal. And she prayed for Fabien. At the moment it was fashionable to appear pious at court, but Sophie had always sought to visit to the chapel at times where few others came there. And so did Monsieur de Varade. Much more a creature of regular habits than she was, he went to the chapel at the same time every day. Sophie carefully orchestrated her own visits so they often, but not always overlapped with his. She did not approach him, or even acknowledge his presence. Fabien had not given her a time limit, and she didn’t want to hurry. But she saw he noticed her, and one day he was waiting for her when she left.

“Mademoiselle de Clermont? I’m not sure you remember, but we were presented at a concert last month.”

“Of course I do, Monsieur de Varade.”

“I don’t want to seem forward. But I often see you here, and I find it very inspiring to see devoutness in a young lady like you.”

Sophie answered truthfully. “I find praying the best cure for a troubled mind.”

“I can’t imagine you have many troubles, Mademoiselle.”

Sophie had wondered if Fabien’s instinct for once was wrong when it came to Monsieur de Varade, who seemed so unremarkable, but now she thought he was right after all. Monsieur de Varade was prying, and he was not even subtle about it. She was suddenly very glad she had decided to only be herself in her dealings with him.

Now she smiled shyly and said that she had been doing this for years, and perhaps this was why she had so few worries. With a certain satisfaction she could see her smile take effect; Monsieur de Varade grew a little pink on the cheeks and asked if she would care to take a stroll in the garden before returning to the palace.

In the following weeks Sophie often took walks with Monsieur Varade. She took care to not always come to the chapel when he did, but on those days he always waited for her to escort her back with a detour through the garden. He was not an interesting man, in Sophie’s opinion. Born in a good family but with little money he actually was what she pretended to be, and his rise in Colbert’s administration was more due to hard work than family connections. Sophie had learned a long time ago that the best way to seem interested in a subject was to pay close attention to it. The most boring topic became more engaging if one knew a little about it, and everyone appreciated a good listener. At court, where everyone was preoccupied on how others saw them, people often only talked without ever bothering to listen.

Monsieur de Varade said nothing which sounded suspicious to Sophie, but there were silences which told her there were things he didn’t say. She was sure he left openings on purpose to see if she would try to find out more, but she blithely ignored them, and, little by little he stopped baiting her. He was too poor and bland-looking to get much attention from the ladies at court, and Sophie could tell he felt both proud and a bit self-conscious to be seen in her company. He never tried to take advantage of her, but she still thought she was correct in thinking he was falling for her. She had not, however, thought he would propose. 

“I have long wondered how you, Mademoiselle de Clermont seems satisfied with my company. A young woman like you; so beautiful, so accomplished, so virtuous, should have scores of gentlemen vying for your hand.” 

Sophie laughed. “I have no dowry. Didn’t you know a girl with money is always much more accomplished than a girl without? And I enjoy our walks, Monsieur de Varade; not every man at court has your fine manners.”

“I’m not rich, but that is likely to change. I need to go away, quite soon, and hopefully it will mean my circumstances will change.

Sophie watched him with a certain interest. He usually sounded very composed, but now he appeared to be nervous. He suddenly took her hand.

“Mademoiselle de Clermont, if my plans works, I could offer you a good name, and a life without financial worries. I don’t care if you have no money. But it would mean you would have to leave Versailles.”

“I don’t know what to say, Monsieur.”

“I know, it’s sudden. I had thought I would have a little more time, but… Anyway, I will leave in two days time. Perhaps you could consider my offer and have an answer for me before I leave?”

“I have done what you wanted of me,” Sophie told Fabien later. “Monsieur de Varade loves me.”

She recounted what he had told her, and also that he was going to leave Versailles.

“What do you want me to do now?”

“Nothing. Meets him as you have planned. Gracefully refuse him, but not at once. Take a walk in the gardens first.”

When she was leaving, Fabien suddenly called her back.

“And you? What are your feelings for him; are they mutual?”

Sophie stared at Fabien in incomprehension. “You have noticed he is a very dull man, haven’t you? And I still don’t understand why you wanted me to do this.”

He waved her away.

”A simple precaution”

She waited for him to say more but Fabien said nothing else, and Sophie left feeling annoyed with his continued refusal to explain her assignment to her.

Mindful of her orders, Sophie allowed Monsieur de Varade to walk a little further from the palace than she usually allowed. She knew something was about to happen, though she did not know what, but she was not completely surprised when they were suddenly surrounded by musketeers. Sophie heard Fabien before she saw him.

“Seize him.” 

Monsieur de Varade was pulled from her side, his face first surprised, then she saw a brief flash of fear before he looked angry and struggled a little, before he calmed down.

“Mademoiselle de Clermont must be allowed to leave,” he said to Fabien who looked at Sophie as if he didn't know her.

“No.” He nodded to one of his men. “Take the girl too.”

He turned and left, followed with the men holding Monsieur de Varade.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Sophie asked the musketeer who approached her, but he didn’t answer. To her relief he didn’t touch her, merely walked by her side to escort her back to the palace.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The warnings are coming into play in this chapter.

Sophie was brought into Fabien’s office and told to wait there, then she was left alone. She had hoped Fabien would come and explain himself, but he did not. So she removed the mantle she had worn for her walk and tried to settle down with one of Fabien’s books to pass time. But she found it hard to pay attention to what she was reading, too many thoughts swirling around her head. What was happening, and why wasn’t she allowed to leave? Surely Fabien could not suspect her of anything? She had done nothing but following his orders, and Sophie could not understand what could have made him suspicious, if that was what he was. Eventually a servant came with some food for her, but she found it hard to eat. Outside the room a guard was posted, but he could tell her nothing more than she was supposed to stay where she was.

It was hours later when Fabien finally came. Sophie was half asleep in his chair, but as soon as he entered she felt wide awake. He looked tired, rolling his shoulder as if he tried to ease out stiff muscles.

“What is happening?”

He made a grimace. 

“Nothing much. He is not speaking, and I need him to talk tonight. Something happened that made him speed up his plans, and I need to know what.”

“What has he done? Are you sure he is guilty?”

“I know he is.” 

Fabien rubbed a hand over his face as if to expel his tiredness. 

“I need you to come with me now. I had hoped to keep you out of it, but I need you.”

“What can I do? He won’t listen to me.”

“I know.”

A horrible suspicion formed in Sophie’s mind, and she took a step back, away from him.

“What are you going to do?”

“The less you know, the better.”

“I don’t like this, Fabien.”

He moved closer to Sophie before she could back away further, and reached for her arm, holding her gently. He touched her hair, stroking it as if he tried to calm a skittish horse. Despite her growing apprehension Sophie closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. It had been a long time since Fabien had treated her with kindness.

“Do you trust me, Sophie?”

“I do. But I-”

He interrupted her, his grip hardening.

“Keep that in mind.”

He walked out of the room, giving Sophie no other choice but to follow. Her high heels slipped on the floor and she stumbled, but he paid no heed. She understood now, and it sickened her. Monsieur de Varade had no family in Versailles, and few friends. He had no vices to exploit, no weaknesses. Until Fabien had created one to use against him. There had been no reason to tell Sophie of what was going on because she had only been bait. Unshed tears prickled her eyes, she felt angry at herself for not understanding sooner, and angry at Fabien for doing this to her.

The room Fabien took Sophie to was familiar to her. He had taken here there once before, a long time ago. Then she had been afraid he was going to hurt her, now she knew he would. The question was; how much? The room was brightly lit, and it was all too easy to see every gruesome detail. Monsieur de Varade was tied to a chair, his jacket removed and his shirt torn and bloodstained. His face was bloody and swollen, and to Sophie’s growing horror she saw the fingers on his left hand broken and mis-happen. She clasped her hand against her mouth, afraid she would be sick at the sight and smell of blood. When most of the court found public executions an excellent amusement, Sophie never went because she could not abide to see anyone suffer. Now she could not avoid it, and she swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising in her throat.

Fabien shoved her forward and let go, causing Sophie to fall down on her hands and knees. Monsieur de Varade looked at her in horror, and Sophie stared back, eyes wide in fear which was not wholly pretend. She knew she had a role to play, willingly or not, but until now she had forgotten what she ought to have remembered; that Fabien Marchal was a man for whom violence came easily. And she should have remembered how persistent he was in his work, and how ruthless he could be. 

For the moment she was left alone on the floor while Fabien turned to Monsieur de Varade.

“If you won’t talk, then perhaps your mistress will be more amenable.”

Monsieur de Varade tugged at his bonds, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

“Mademoiselle de Clermont is innocent. She knows nothing of my affairs. And she is not my mistress!”

“I don’t believe you. And she will break and talk, in the end. Or are you telling me you are letting an innocent woman suffer in your place?”

Without any apparent hurry Fabien strolled over to a table which held a number of tools and implements, and after some consideration he selected a riding crop from them. When Sophie moved to stand up, he hit her over the back, the impact forceful enough to send her sprawling on the floor once more. But the heavily boned bodice took the brunt of the blow, and though it left her breathless and hurting, Sophie knew it had looked much worse than it had actually been. She raised an arm to shield her if he was going to hit her again, and screamed;

“Please stop! I don’t know what you want! I don’t know what you are talking about!”

Fabien put down the riding crop and for a moment Sophie thought he would relent, but then he picked up a piece of rope instead. He pulled her up so she was standing again and tied her wrists together. Sophie winced when the rope tightened, but with his back to Monsieur de Varade so he couldn’t see, Fabien ran his fingers along the rope, making sure there was some ease in it. But then he forced Sophie's arms up, threading the rope around a hook hanging from the ceiling in a chain. It hung so high she had to stand on her tiptoes, and the strain immediately made her shoulders and arms ache. Once again armed with the riding crop Fabien started to ask her questions. Sophie did not have to feign ignorance of the answers as she had no idea what it was Monsieur de Varade had done. There was not much acting in her bewildered denials and it was clear Monsieur de Varade bought into it fully. 

Fabien’s voice sounded different, flatter, and without emotion, and Sophie could see nothing of the man she knew. Every time she protested her innocence the riding crop came down on her legs and buttocks, stinging, though the heavy fabrics of her skirt and petticoats softened the strikes. When Sophie tried to twist away, he put his hand around her throat, tightening his fingers so she choked every time she moved. Fabien had told her to trust him, but how far would he go? If Monsieur de Varade did not break where would Fabien stop? A tight knot of fear formed inside Sophie, growing a little every time she looked into his eyes and saw a stranger. But at the same time his touch affected her the saw way it always had. The warmth of his hand on her skin, the relentless pressure against her throat, and the burning blows from the riding crop; it was all too close to the games they had played together before. If it had just been the two of them in the room, then she would have been thrilled and eager. The feelings fed of each other, fear and arousal mingling with the anger she still felt. They all blurred together in her mind, tossing Sophie into a maelstrom of emotions. Fabien’s question, and the shouts from Monsieur de Varade became sounds without meaning, drowned by her own laboured breathing. Dark spots danced before her eyes, and for the first time in her life, Sophie thought she was going to faint.

It took her several moments to realise the voices had fallen silent, and Fabien had stepped away from her. With her vision still clouded Sophie could not be sure, but she thought she caught a look of concern on his face. He threw away the riding crop, she could hear it clatter as it fell to the floor, and unsheathed his knife instead. In her overwrought state Sophie could not stop herself from crying out, cringing away from him as he approached her again. But he merely cut the ropes around her wrists. The sudden freedom caused a sharp pain to shoot through her shoulders, and Sophie would have fallen if Fabien had not caught her. He held her close for a brief second, then he gently lowered her down to the floor. Relief flooded through her, but then Sophie froze as the sharp point of the knife cut into her skin at the nape of her neck. The night in Fabien’s torture chamber was not yet over.


	4. Chapter 4

Sophie could feel blood trickle down her neck, but the cut itself didn’t hurt so much as it stung. Then the knife slid lower, skimming her skin without drawing blood. Instead, it cut through the laces of her bodice, its hard shell of whale bones and fabric loosening around her body. Fabien stepped around to stand in front of her, but Sophie’s eyes was blurred with tears, and she could not see his expression.

“Remove your clothes,” he told her, his voice a low drawl devoid of any emotion.

“No!”

He slapped her face, hard enough to whip her head to one side.

“Do it yourself, or I call in my men to strip you. Whatever you chose, woman.”

It was easy enough to slip out her arms from the bodice and let it fall to the floor, but Sophie’s hands were shaking and it took her several tries to untie her skirts and petticoats. When the garments finally fell down from her hips, Fabien hauled her up to her feet again, turning her so he was once again standing behind her. Sophie made no move to remove her chemise, and Fabien did not demand it of her, but the linen was gossamer thin around her body, and provided little of either warmth or modesty. Fabien pulled her closer to him, encircling both her wrist with a hand behind her back. Then the knife pressed into her chest, slightly below her breasts, forcing her to breathe in quick shallow breaths to avoid the point of the blade to dig too deep into her flesh.

“Do you know, Monsieur de Varade, how much a human being can bleed before death comes? A long time, provided one doesn’t cut through one of the major blood vessels, and with a lot of pain. I’ve made quite a study of anatomy in my spare moments, and I believe Mademoiselle de Clermont still have hours to live. But not very pleasant ones, I’m afraid.”

The knife moved, but there was no pain at first and Sophie only knew he had cut her again when she felt the warm wetness of blood soaking through her chemise. Then she felt the gash as a line of fire across her ribcage, and she cried out in pain. Her body told her to flee, but there was nowhere to go, she was trapped between Fabien and his knife. Despite the coolness of the room, her chemise felt damp against her skin, but her mouth felt dry, and it was difficult to speak.

”Stop it”, she pleaded, though she knew Fabien would not heed her words. She looked at Monsieur de Varade, who stared at her with a look of desperation in his face.

“Please, help me”, Sophie whispered. “Make him stop.”

The knife moved again, not yet cutting her, but soon it would, and Sophie couldn’t hold back a sob. Despite the futility of it she struggled in Fabien’s grip, but stilled as the knife once again pressed against her. But before anything else happened, Monsieur de Varade finally spoke:

“No more! I will talk! I will tell you what you want to know, but before I say anything, Mademoiselle de Clermont must be allowed to leave.”

Fabien let go of Sophie, who gathered up her clothes and hugged them tightly against her, as she retreated from the two men. 

“Everything?”

The bound man nodded, and Fabien glanced at Sophie. 

“She may go. But I warn you; if you deceive me I will not hesitate to bring her back.”

“It won’t be needed. If you promise she will not suffer any consequences of this.”

“I promise.”

Fabien returned to Sophie, took her arm arm and led her out of the room. He brought her back to his office, and as soon as the door had closed, she dropped her clothes and flew at him. As soon as Monsieur de Varade had talked Sophie had stopped feeling afraid, now she was only furious and, to her dismay, still deeply aroused. Fabien jerked back, but not fast enough; two of her sharp fingernails left red marks down his cheek. Sophie made another attempt to reach him, but this time he was ready for her. With a quick movement Fabien seized her arms and slammed her into the wall and held her there. Sophie snarled at him.

“How far would you have gone?”

“I would not have let any real harm come to you.”

“But you would have gone further?”

“Yes.”

“And you would have liked it?”

The grip around her arms tightened, and he stepped a little closer to her.

“Oh yes.”

They were both breathing hard and Sophie realised he was as much on fire as she was. She arched herself up against him, and she could feel him tremble. Fabien moved even closer, she could feel his scent and the heat of his body engulf her, but he did nothing else, he only held her. And Sophie knew he would not do more, not without her consent. In the dungeon Fabien’s power over her had been absolute; now that power belonged to her. If she told him to release her, he would. If she left, he would let her. To deny him was what she ought to do. This was how she could retaliate; to leave him wanting. A small revenge for the terrors he had just put her through. It would have been easy if Sophie hadn’t been feverish with desire herself. Her efforts to quell her longing for Fabien had never been successful, and now the only thing she could think of was how much she wanted him. Reason and sense abandoned her, and she was lost in her hunger for him.

Sophie skimmed her lips over his mouth, lingered for a heartbeat, before she kissed him. After a moment Fabien opened his lips for her tongue, but he still restrained himself from moving, though Sophie could feel it was with great effort. She held herself back for a little longer, relishing in being the mistress of the situation, before she couldn’t withstand her own need anymore.

“Do what you want with me, Fabien.”

There was no hesitation; Sophie felt like she was swept away by a mighty tidal wave when Fabien released her arms, only to tear her already ruined chemise away from her body. His hands were careless and rough, but Sophie didn’t mind when he cruelly twisted her nipples before moving down between her legs, it only inflamed her further. He thrust a finger inside her, then another one, and Sophie gasped, twisting to make it easier for him. It had been too long; her release came with abrupt haste, but she was given no respite to catch her breath. Fabien took her waist and lifted her up against the wall before entering her as savagely as he had touched her. Sophie almost screamed in pleasure and wound her legs around his back to pull him even closer. For the moment all thoughts of what had happened before was forgotten, and the only thing she could think was how this was right, her and Fabien; the way it always should be.


	5. Chapter 5

The euphoria only lasted until it was over. Fabien released her and stepped back to arrange his clothes, and Sophie sank down to the floor. She felt empty, all fire inside her had burned to ashes, and now she was bone tired. Clad only in stocking and shoes and the sorry remains of her chemise she now realised how cold she was, and how much her whole body hurt. And there was a terribly ache inside her too, as if the knife Fabien had wielded had pierced straight through her heart. Closing her eyes Sophie curled up against the wall. She needed stand up, to find her clothes, get warm again and to rest, but she could not make herself move. Fabien said her name, but Sophie didn’t respond, not even when he crouched down in front of her. Not until he lightly touched her shoulder did she look up at him.

“It was a cruel game you played in there, Fabien.”

“I thought you didn’t care for him.”

“I don’t. I’m not talking about him, I’m talking about me.”

Sophie voice quavered and took a deep breath to compose herself. 

“Have I not always done what you have asked of me. And done it well?”

“Yes, you have.”

“I have only asked you for one thing, when I started to work for you. One thing; to not be kept in the dark. Do you remember?”

“I do.”

“And you still put me through this ignorant of your intentions. Did you, even for a moment, consider what it would do to me?”

To her surprise he looked away. 

“No, I did not.”

“What will happen now? Are you going to use me again like this, with no thoughts of me? Do you think I am heartless, just because you are?”

Sophie had been on the verge of tears many times this night, but now she could not hold them back anymore. She buried her face in her hands, and let them fall freely.

“I wish I still hated you!”

Fabien didn’t answer. Instead he lifted her to her feet and led her to the fireplace where the air was warmer. Sophie continued to cry, hard angry sobs, and for a few minutes he let her be. When her weeping grew less frenzied he pulled away her hands, and gave her his handkerchief. Sophie wiped her eyes and nose, feeling even more drained after her outburst. 

“We need to talk,” Fabien said. “But I must go back now. I will come to your room later.”

Sophie nodded, too tired and unhappy to speak. She allowed Fabien to help her into her skirt, and to wrap her mantle around her, pulling up the hood to hide her tear-swollen face and ruined hairstyle. The rest of her clothes he bunched up tightly and gave back to her, before he opened the door and ordered a guard to bring her back to her room. The hour was late, and the corridors deserted, but in her rooms Sophie found Mariette waiting for her. When her maid saw Sophie she gasped.

“What has happened, Mademoiselle?”

“It’s not important.”

“It’s Monsieur Marchal’s doing.”

Sophie gave her a sharp glance.

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, I’ve always known. But it wasn’t my place to say anything, and what could I do? I’m only a servant. But it’s a shame what he do to you. He is a cruel man, and a powerful one. No one would dare to defy him. But it’s a shame it happens to Mademoiselle who is so kind and gentle.”

Sophie was on the verge of saying it was not as bad as it looked, but then she saw herself in the mirror, and the words died on her lips. There were bruises forming on her arms and throat, and her mouth was swollen. And then there was the blood streaking her skin and soaked into the remains of her chemise. Though the cuts, upon inspection were shallow and already closing over, once again Fabien had known exactly what he was doing, this was still bad. To deny it would not bring comfort to either of them.

She allowed Mariette to undress and wash her before wrapping her into her softest robe. Sitting in front of the fire, while Mariette combed her hair free from the many tangles Fabien’s handling had left, Sophie thought of what had happened. She still felt heartsick and mistreated, and she knew why. Fabien using her as a mindless tool would not have hurt this bad, if she had not loved him. When their relationship had started it had made her feel strong, because she had only wanted the physical release it had given her. Now it only made her weak, and if this continued, it would crush her. It didn’t matter he knew nothing of her feelings, he had the power to break her heart as long as she cared for him. 

Sophie needed to protect herself, but then she must become the kind of person she did not want to be. She must do what her mother had done; harden her heart, and let bitterness and coldness shield her. It was a bleak future, but Sophie could not see any other way around. Perhaps sleep and rest would provide her with other answers, and Sophie decided to not wait for Fabien but go to bed instead. What did he want to say anyway? Once again that she had no other choices than doing his bidding, Sophie supposed. She felt far too weary to sit up and wait for something she did not care to hear. Fabien could wake her up if he wanted to.

Mariette finished her ministrations with braiding Sophie’s long hair, and Sophie dismissed her. It was a relief to lie down between cool linen sheets which smelled sweetly of lavender. It was a comforting smell, and despite her sore and aching body, Sophie, fell asleep almost as soon as she had put her head on the pillow.


	6. Chapter 6

Sophie’s sleep was deep, and she didn’t wake until Fabien touched her arm to rouse her. She felt she must have slept for a long time, but it was still dark outside, so dawn must still be hours away. Fabien lit the candle by her bed with his own before he sat down at the bedside. If he had looked tired before, he now looked haggard, his face pale, and with dark shadows underneath his eyes. But he smelled freshly of soap and he had changed his shirt. Sophie sat up and gathered her bedclothes around her against the night chill. Fabien reached inside his doublet and removed a small object.

“I have something for you. It arrived earlier today, but there was no time to give it to you until now.”

He gave her a small case in polished wood, about as big as her two hands together. When Sophie opened it she saw it contained a drawing of a sleeping child. It looked simple enough, the artist had only made use of the greyish tinge of the paper, the darker strokes of the pen, and a few white dashes of paint to depict shape and form. But she saw at once it was Henriette in the way the cheeks rounded, and in the pout of her small mouth. Sophie could even recognise the lace cap the child wore as one she had made herself and sent to Madame Marchal. Fabien looked down at the drawing. 

“I think it is skilful, but then I know nothing of art.

”Sophie almost smiled at the thought the all-knowing Fabien didn’t know everything. But she had been taught to draw at the cloister school, and she knew how difficult it was to catch the likeness of a child.

“It is wonderful! Thank you!”

“I know how much you miss her. Why don’t you go to see her and my mother tomorrow? You have certainly deserved it.”

“I would like it very much.” Then in a moment of daring she added. “I wish you loved her too.”

“You think I don’t?”

“You barely even look at her.”

Fabien took the portrait from her and studied it. 

“She doesn’t need me. You make enemies in my line of work, and I do what I can to keep my mother’s whereabouts a secret. And it’s better that no one knows the child who lives with her is my daughter. Imagine what could happen to Henriette if my enemies found out about her. It’s safer for her this way.”

Sophie put her hand on his and he didn’t move away.

“But if you love her, it must be so hard to to not allow yourself to show it?”

“It is.”

She looked down on her hand on Fabien’s, feeling bewildered. Sophie had had no idea this was what he felt about Henriette, and now she wondered if she had been wrong about more things. It was no surprise he had known how much she longed for Henriette, but she had not expected him to try to ease her feelings. Then it struck her she should not be so surprised; her memory could easily conjure up several moments of Fabien’s silent compassion. Only not since she came back to Versailles. What did it mean? Her tired mind didn't want to think, so to give herself time she changed the subject.

“What was Monsieur de Varade’s crime? You never told me.”

Fabien closed the casket and gave it back to her, and Sophie put it under her pillow.

“It’s complicated, and the whole story is for a time when we have rested properly, but he stole a great deal of money. He was cunning about it and hid the trail well, but then people who were too curious started to die. You were always an extra caution, and I wish it had been possible to keep you out of it. ” 

Sophie remembered how he had looked when he came to fetch her, and believed him. He had not wanted to take her to the torture chamber, but he had done it anyway, because he was Fabien Marchal, and his duty always came first.

“I don’t object to be a decoy, but I should have been told about your plans. You frightened me; I was even afraid you thought I had conspired against you. You told me to trust you, but how could I when it was clear to me you didn’t trust me. And I didn’t deserve to be kept in the dark.” 

“No, you did not.”

“So why did you do it?”

Fabien was quiet for a few moments, and when he spoke again he didn’t answer her question at once.

“I never expected much from you. To me you always seemed like any other young lady at court, beautiful but vapid. I agreed to take you into my service because I felt a small admiration for the courage and determination you showed to ask me, and I thought I could get some use out of you. But you showed a diligence and intelligence I had not anticipated. You surprised me more than once.”

He smiled briefly at his last words, and Sophie knew what he meant with surprise, and she blushed.

“I didn’t realise how much I relied on you, until you went away. And more than that; I found I missed your company in more ways than one. I comforted myself with the thought it was only a short period of time before you returned. But then you didn’t want to come back. And you made very clear you certainly didn’t want to come back to me.”

Sophie understood something.

“You were angry at me!”

Fabien nodded.

“Yes. I believe I was. But I should not have allowed it to cloud my judgement. You are right, I should not have acted like I did. I apologise.”

Something stirred inside Sophie; the hope she might not be as insignificant to Fabien as she had always believed. She had thought it was impossible for him to love her, but wasn’t that what he had said about her to his mother?

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to come back to you. Fabien, you know what I feel for you. I know your mother told you.”

“I didn’t believe her. How could I?”

“No, I don’t suppose you could. Because of my mother. Always because of my mother.”

“Yes.”

“She will always be in my life, and yours too. I know that. But I also know who she was, and what she did. Did you know she tried to warn me when I went to England with Madame? I didn’t understand her, I didn’t know our destination then. Not until long after her death did I realise she must have known about the planned attack.”

“She did. I’m convinced she poisoned me at that particular time to prevent me from interfering.”

“Yes. But even if she warned me, she still sent me into harm's way. I probably would have been killed if the attempt had been successful because the only way an assassin could be sure he had found his target was to kill everyone in that carriage. She knew it, and she still didn’t stop me from going. I loved my mother, and I think she thought she loved me, but it was not like I love Henriette. I’d die first before I let anyone harm her. When she was born I realised that to my mother I was always more important to her as a means to an end than as a daughter.”

Sophie had thought about Beatrice and her actions many times and she thought she had got used to how painful these thoughts were. But saying it aloud hurt more than she foreseen as if voicing her pain to someone else made it more real.

Fabien reached out for her and pulled her into his arms, and Sophie let him without resistance. He said nothing, but it was a comfort to be held. One of his hands caressed her neck, gently rubbing the tense muscles there. Sophie could feel some of the stiffness ease away and she relaxed into his touch. Resting her face against his shoulder she spoke again.

“I think of my mother, and I wonder what I would do if I was in her place, knowing I was to die. I would ask to see my child one more time so I could kiss her goodbye. I would like to think my mother asked for me, but I don’t think she did.”

Fabien hesitated before he answered.

“No, she did not.”

His arms tightened around her. Sophie closed her eyes, his words brought another pang of misery, though she was not surprised.

“She was what she was. And I have forgiven her, but I’m not going to to allow her to rule my life. Or whom I love. I have forgiven you too, Fabien. I love you.”

Fabien buried his face in her hair, and Sophie nestled a little closer. To her surprise, it felt good to finally have told Fabien of her feelings. And he didn’t seem to mind; she had been afraid that if she ever told him, he would react with coldness and rejection. He murmured something into her hair in such a low voice she almost didn’t hear what he was saying.

“I am not a poet, Sophie; you should have words which suit your grace and beauty, but I can’t give them to you.”

Sophie straightened so she could see Fabien’s face.

“I don’t need poetry or eloquence. But I will ask you two questions, and I want you to answer with the truth. If I can put my mother in the past; can you do the same?”

This time there was no pause before he answered.

“Yes.”

“Do you love me, Fabien?”

“Yes. I love you and nothing I have felt before can compare with what I feel for you.”

Sophie’s heart felt like it was bursting with joy. She smiled at Fabien, and he smiled back before he gave her a tender kiss. When he released her, Sophie shifted in bed to make room for him.

“Sleep here with me, please, at least for a few hours.”

Fabien hesitated for a moment, but then he removed his boots and lay down beside her. His body felt warm and solid against her back. Sophie sighed, contented. She felt happy just like this with Fabien’s draped over her waist. They had a lot to talk about, but she would sleep now. There would be time for everything else when they had rested. She had almost fallen asleep when Fabien spoke.

“There may be a way we can marry.”

“The King will never agree.”

"Perhaps there is a way. He may allow a secret marriage. It would not be the first such alliance the King has blessed, though no one else knows about it, but me and the priest.”

This was something Sophie had not known about. For the briefest of moments she wondered if she could get Fabien to tell her who those couple were before she fully realised what it might mean for her and him.

“You think he would?”

“I don’t know, but I have never asked him for much. I hope he will see fit to grant it.”

Sophie found his hand under the blankets and squeezed it.

“I hope so too.”

Then she finally fell asleep, her last thought before sleep claimed her filled with happiness.

Finis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader. Thank you for sticking to this story. I had never imagined it would take several fics to feel I was done. But though I wanted a happy ending for Fabien and Sophie, I also wanted them to evolve into something believable. Much as I enjoy them as a pairing I also feel the power balance between them is very skewed, and I wanted to even that out. How well I have succeeded is another matter.


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